The Determined Husband

by Lee Wilkinson

  They shook hands gravely.

  ‘Well, Sera, after knocking you about and depriving you of your supper, the very least I can do is take you out for a pizza. What do you say?’

  About to eagerly accept, she found herself recalling all the dire warnings her grandmother had dinned into her, and hesitated.

  ‘If you don’t like pizza we can have pasta instead.’

  She half shook her head. ‘I love pizza.’

  Watching her face, he suggested evenly, ‘But you’ve been warned about letting yourself be picked up by strange men?’

  Her faint blush was answer enough.

  He grinned. ‘I may be a little odd in some ways but I hardly think I qualify as strange.’

  Mischievously, she said, ‘It might depend on one’s definition of strange, and I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to judge.’

  ‘We could easily remedy that.’

  ‘Ah, but by then it might be too late.’

  ‘A good point. In that case, let me reassure you as to my intentions, my status, and my propensities…

  ‘I have no designs either on your purse or your person; I’m not married, or even mildly involved with anyone; and I’ve never been known to grow horns and a tail, or turn into a homicidal maniac, without warning.

  ‘On the other hand, if you prefer a more positive approach, we’re both Anglo-American, and I do live in the same building. Which means I count as a neighbour…’

  ‘I’m not sure the latter is entirely reassuring,’ she teased. ‘I imagine even the Boston Strangler must have been somebody’s neighbour.’

  He pretended to be aggrieved. ‘Of course, if you don’t like the look of me, just say so. I may go and throw myself in the Hudson, but you’ve no need to feel any guilt…’

  They were both enjoying the exchange, and she laughed. ‘That’s nice to know. I don’t stand up too well to guilt.’

  Studying her face, the clear, long-lashed almond eyes, the straight nose, the wide, generous mouth and softly rounded chin, he asked, ‘How well do you stand up to a spot of friendly persuasion?’

  ‘Not too well,’ she admitted.

  ‘Then, supposing I was to say it would make me very happy if you would come and share a pizza with me?’

  ‘I can feel myself weakening.’

  ‘Thank the Lord for that!’ he exclaimed fervently. ‘Now, suppose we go and dump the shopping before we both die of hunger? Which floor do you live on?’

  ‘The top floor at the back. I have a bedsit.’

  ‘Here, it’s classed as one room apartment,’ he told her with a grin, adding, as they turned to climb the stairs together. ‘I live on the top at the front, so we really are neighbours.’

  ‘It’s a wonder we haven’t met before,’ she marvelled.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s a wonder we’ve met now. You said you’d only lived here a few days. I haven’t been here much longer myself. In this kind of building people can live next door to each other and never meet at all, unless they happen to keep the same hours.

  ‘Normally I wouldn’t be around at this time, but a client I was taking out to dinner called at the last minute to say he couldn’t make it.

  ‘Feeling at a loose end, I decided to come back and change into something casual before grabbing a bite to eat.’

  Smiling at her, he added, ‘I’m very glad I did.’

  The first few weeks of being in love—and she was madly, head-over-heels in love—had been the most wonderful weeks of her life.

  She had discovered that Keir was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and more. As well as being exciting, and physically attractive, he proved to be good-tempered and intelligent, sensitive and compassionate, with a spiky sense of humour and a love of life that was infectious.

  He was also a workaholic: at his Wall Street office most evenings until gone nine, and a good part of every weekend.

  In spite of such long business hours, he managed to see her for a short time almost every day. Sometimes in the early mornings they walked in the small park nearby. Other times they had late-night coffee together, either in his apartment or hers.

  On weekends, if he could spare the time, they shared a simple meal and a bottle of wine.

  One weekend, when they’d planned to take a short trip upstate, he said regretfully, ‘I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t make it after all. I have commitments both Saturday and Sunday.’

  Faced with yet another lonely weekend, she protested, ‘Why do you have to put in such long hours?’

  He answered carefully, ‘The real estate and property development business is a very demanding one.’

  ‘But surely no one normally works every evening and weekends as well?’

  ‘A great deal of my business is done socially rather than over a desk, and prospective clients expect me to be available for them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’

  Taking her hand, he gave it a squeeze. ‘It won’t always be like this, I promise you. But at the moment I have no choice.’

  Sighing, she accepted the inevitable and, with her usual good sense, agreed, ‘Then, I’ll just have to make the best of it.’

  The following Saturday morning, he appeared unexpectedly at her door. Sounding jubilant, he said, ‘You know I’ve been having talks with your boss?’

  Sera nodded. He’d mentioned the fact to her and, one day, she’d actually caught a glimpse of him disappearing into Martin Rothwell’s office.

  ‘Well, Rothwell has finally agreed to provide the rest of the financial backing I need to go ahead with a big, new development on Broadway.

  ‘On the strength of that, I’ve decided to play hookey for once. Let’s go and have some fun!’ He seized her hand.

  ‘B-but I need to get changed, and do something with my hair,’ she stammered.

  His eyes running over her grey and white striped button-through dress, her flat-heeled sandals, and the black, silky hair tumbling round her shoulders, he said, ‘What you’ve got on will do fine. And I like your hair loose.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he swept her down the stairs like a prairie wind.

  ‘We’re taking the subway to Coney Island.’

  Though somewhat run-down and a mere ghost of its former self, colourful Coney Island, with its amusement arcades and fairground rides, was still amazingly alive and vibrant.

  To Sera’s unjaded palate, the simple seaside pleasures it offered, and the sight of so many people having fun, were all she could have asked.

  Eating hot dogs and sharing a big bag of fries and a can of cola, she and Keir strolled along the boardwalk enjoying the sunshine, the music, the smells and the ambience.

  Noticing her sparkling eyes, he asked, ‘Does this kind of thing take you back to your childhood?’

  Sera shook her head. ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything quite like this,’ she admitted.

  His level black brows drew together in a frown. ‘Tell me about yourself… Apart from the fact that you work for Rothwell, your mother comes from Boston, and you were brought up in England, I know very little about you.’

  Never one for talking about herself, she said, a touch awkwardly, ‘There’s not much to know. I’ve led a very dull life.’

  ‘Then, tell me all the dull bits, and I’ll try not to yawn.’

  ‘I’m sure you won’t be interested.’

  ‘And I’m sure I will,’ he disagreed firmly. ‘You’re an odd mixture of shyness and courage, of warmth and reticence. You like people, yet you tend to leave them alone. I can’t imagine you’re the sort to make bosom friends and confide in them…’

  When, made even more uncomfortable by that shrewd summing up, she said nothing, he went on, ‘You have a great deal of quiet pride and, while you fail to condemn others, you’re very moral.’

  ‘You make me sound terribly stuffy,’ she protested.

  ‘Not at all. You’re exactly the sort of woman I’d always hoped to find…’

  Her hea
rt swelling, she caught her breath as he added, ‘And I want to know what made you that way. So, tell me about your childhood. Where were you brought up?’

  ‘In Sussex.’

  ‘What were your mother and father like?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I never really knew them. They died when I was only two.’

  ‘Tough,’ he said simply. ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘They left me with my paternal grandmother while they went to France on a skiing holiday. It was to have been a second honeymoon. They were killed in an avalanche the first day there.

  ‘Both my parents had been only children and, apart from my father’s mother, neither of them had any close relatives.’

  ‘So who brought you up?’

  ‘My grandmother. She didn’t want to be saddled with a child at her age, but she was a woman of strong principles and an even stronger sense of duty.

  ‘Nan had been widowed the previous year and there was very little money, so we lived in a kind of genteel poverty.

  ‘Though she was careful never to say so, I knew, in the way that children do know, that I was a burden to her.

  ‘She preferred her own company to that of a child, so I was always left very much to my own devices.’

  ‘But you had school friends?’

  Her voice matter-of-fact, Sera said, ‘I wasn’t encouraged to make friends. Nan had always “kept herself to herself” as she put it, and didn’t see why I shouldn’t do the same.’

  ‘It must have been very lonely for you.’

  ‘I had some imaginary friends and, thanks to a kindergarten teacher who took an interest in me, I learnt to read at a very early age…’

  Seeing the bleak look on Keir’s face and worried in case she’d given the wrong impression, Sera added hastily, ‘I don’t mean Nan was ever unkind to me, and she did everything she was able to do. She insisted on me going to university and, though I lived at home to save money, it was still a struggle to find the fares to travel.

  ‘When I graduated with a first class honours degree and went to work for Anglo American, she was as proud as a peacock and declared the struggle had been well worth it.’

  ‘What did she think of you coming to the States?’

  ‘She never knew. Nan was getting very old and infirm, and she died last winter. Otherwise I wouldn’t have left her.

  ‘Her death was one of the reasons I took the chance of a year in New York. The lease on the house was up, and there was nothing to keep me in England…’

  For a while they walked in silence, each busy with their thoughts, while music and laughter, the noise of the amusements, and the shrill voices of children, flowed around them.

  Then, their casual meal finished, they paused to wipe their greasy fingers on paper napkins, which they disposed of in the nearest litter bin, before strolling on.

  Tucking her hand companionably through his arm, Keir asked, ‘Now which shall we sample first? The fairground or the aquarium?’

  Just happy to be with him, she said, ‘I don’t mind in the slightest. It’s up to you.’

  ‘In that case, let’s go for all the fun of the fair.’

  As though trying to make up for her colourless childhood, Keir pulled out all the stops and the rest of the day was packed with more pleasure and excitement than Sera had known in the whole of her life.

  When, her face glowing, she thanked him, he said with an odd kind of tenderness, ‘At the moment you’re easy to please, my love.’

  Hot, tired, and dusty, but completely happy, they were heading back to the subway when some jewellery being displayed by a street vendor caught Sera’s eye and she paused to take a second look.

  The item that had attracted her attention was a narrow silver ring with an unusual chased design.

  ‘Seen something you fancy?’ Keir queried, reaching for his wallet.

  If it had been anything but a ring, she might have told him. As it was…

  Flushing a little, she shook her head and made to move on.

  ‘How about this as a memento?’ As though he had second sight, he reached to pick up the very ring she’d been looking at. ‘Try it on.’

  When she hesitated, he took her left hand and slipped it on to her engagement finger. ‘That fits quite well.’

  Turning to the vendor, who was sporting dreadlocks and a plaited headband, he asked, ‘How much?’

  Moving a wad of gum from one side of his mouth to the other, the man weighed up Keir and, apparently deciding not to push it, suggested, ‘Twenty dollars?’

  Keir nodded and the money changed hands.

  As they walked away, Keir’s arm round Sera’s waist, he murmured, sotto voce, ‘It might be as well not to keep it on too long. It will probably turn your finger green.’

  Lifting her hand to look at it, she said, ‘I’ll chance that.’

  He gave her a squeeze. ‘One day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I’ll buy you something a great deal more expensive from Tiffany’s.’

  A feeling of pure joy and thankfulness filled her. Keir loved her and wanted to marry her.

  No matter what he bought her in the future, nothing could ever take the place of this ring and she would never be happier than she was at this moment…

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WAS almost eleven o’clock when they reached the Brownstone and climbed the stairs. Sensing that he was about to leave her at her door and not wanting this magic day to end, Sera asked quickly, ‘Won’t you come in for a coffee?’

  Looking into eyes unconsciously pleading, he agreed, ‘So long as it’s a quick one. I’ll need an early start in the morning to make up for today.’

  She made two mugs of instant and they drank them sitting side by side on the couch that, with its brightly patterned duvet, was also a bed.

  As soon as the mugs were empty he rose to go and Sera accompanied him to the door.

  Until today, he had, intentionally it seemed, kept things very casual, a handclasp, a brotherly hug, a peck on the cheek.

  Now, when he bent his dark head, with innocent boldness, she lifted her lips for his kiss. After the briefest of hesitations, his mouth brushed hers.

  The lightest touch, but it proved to be as explosive as dropping a lighted match into a keg of gunpowder.

  Without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath that light pressure and, making a sound almost like a groan, he gathered her into his arms and began to kiss her deeply.

  Head whirling, she clung to him, while his hands started to move over her body, tracing her slim waist and the curve of her hip and buttock, before moving up to find the soft swell of her breast.

  When those skilful fingers began to tease the sensitive nipple, she was shaken by shudders of delight and the kind of fierce desire she had never dreamt existed.

  Knowing all about sex in theory, if not in fact, she had naively supposed that love and sex would go hand in hand to produce a mutual manageable pleasure. She had never visualized being swept away by such extremes of passion.

  When, with a sudden urgency, he began to undo the buttons of her dress and the front fastening of her bra, she would have helped him, but her hands were shaking too much.

  Tossing the garments aside, he stooped to nuzzle his face against her breasts, taking first one nipple into his mouth and then the other.

  The pleasure was so pure, so exquisite, that she thought she could stand no more when, kneeling at her feet, he began to ease off her dainty briefs, kissing his way down her flat belly until he reached the tangle of black silky curls.

  A kind of sensual overload made her give a little gasping cry.

  Getting to his feet, he said thickly, ‘It’s all right, my love. It’s all right.’

  Suddenly desperately afraid he was going to walk away and leave her, she threw her arms around his neck and, her mouth finding his and clinging to it, pressed herself against him.

  For a split second he seemed to hold back. Then, to her utmost relief, he began to kiss he
r again. After a moment he stooped and, lifting her effortlessly in his arms, carried her back to the couch and laid her down on top of the duvet.

  Her heart pounding, her mouth dry, she watched him strip off his own clothes and, when he came to her, she welcomed him with open arms.

  In spite of his own urgency, he was a gentle, considerate lover, skilful and generous. He made her first experience of physical love a beautiful experience, one she knew she would always remember with wonder and delight.

  When his dark head lay heavy on her breast, stroking his curly hair, she was filled with such love and tenderness, such joy, that, unable to contain so much emotion, her heart found an outlet in tears.

  Her mood of ecstasy was so all-embracing that it had never occurred to her that Keir might not feel the same.

  It took her completely by surprise when, lifting himself away, he said in a queer, shaken voice, ‘I’m sorry. I never meant this to happen, believe me…’ Then sharply, ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She smiled at him tremulously.

  ‘Then, why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m just so happy. Please tell me you are. I couldn’t bear it if you were disappointed.’

  ‘Of course I’m happy.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, before saying soberly, ‘I just hope to goodness I can keep things that way.’

  At that moment, still euphoric, she could think of no reason why they shouldn’t both be happy for the rest of their lives.

  Swinging his feet to the floor, he sat on the edge of the couch, his dark head bent as though in thought.

  She was admiring the elegant line of his spine, the clear, healthy skin, the width of his shoulders, when something about the tenseness of his neck muscles made her ask. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m a damned fool.’ Swinging round to face her, he added with sudden violence, ‘You were a virgin…’

  ‘That’s true.’ Her lovely, humorous, self-derisive smile flashed out. ‘But being a virgin isn’t a crime. And I didn’t want to stay a virgin for ever.’

  Heavily, without hope, he queried, ‘I take it you’re not protected?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I am.’ Smiling a little at his astonished face, she said, ‘My doctor suggested I went on the pill for a minor hormone imbalance.’